It wasneeded.
He moved with patience, with focus, like every stroke of his hands, every kiss across her throat and chest was a vow. And when he finally slid into her, they both exhaled like they’d been holding their breath for months.
Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that was slow, steady, consuming. It was messy in the way real love could be—intimate, heavy, honest.
She moaned his name when he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her ear. He groaned hers when she whispered how much she wanted him.
When they came, it was together—quiet and trembling, a release that left them clinging to each other like lifelines.
After, Tool didn’t pull away. He laid beside her, one arm wrapped around her middle, his hand resting low on her belly like he couldn’t bear to let go. She tucked herself into his side, cheek against his chest, listening to the slowing beat of his heart.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full. Content.
But morning would come. And with it, questions.
For now, though, Brandi closed her eyes and let herself believe in this moment—in the weight of his arm around her, in the warmth of his skin against hers, in the peace that came with finally being where she belonged.
The early morning light hadn’t yet cracked the window when she stirred. Tool was still asleep, one arm draped over her waist, his breathing deep and steady.
She reached out, brushing her fingers over the ink on his forearm. Then lower, to his hand resting on her hip.
She could get used to this.
But whether it would last—that was a different story.
He shifted slightly, mumbling her name in his sleep.
Her throat tightened. Maybe this wasn’t just a night. Maybe it was a beginning. Or maybe it was the first lie they’d both tell themselves when morning came.
Chapter Forty
The sun was barely upwhen Brandi slipped out of bed.
Tool didn’t stir. He was sprawled on his back, one arm draped across the empty side of the mattress she’d just vacated, his breathing slow and steady. Peaceful in a way he never seemed to be when he was awake.
That made it harder.
She moved quietly, gathering her clothes from the floor, dressing in the dim light that filtered through the blinds. Her hands trembled as she pulled her shirt over her head. Every piece of her wanted to crawl back under the covers. To curl against his chest. To pretend they could stay in that suspended bubble where last night had felt like something more than just a moment out of time.
But itwasjust a moment.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
She moved into the kitchen barefoot, found the coffee tin in the same spot it had been weeks ago when she dropped by. Things hadn’t changed that much. Tool didn’t call. He didn’t stop by her place. She was the one chasing after him.
Why wouldn’t a man take a willing woman to bed. She had made herself available. That was on her. She was giving up hope he would make them official.
She brewed a pot—strong, no nonsense. The kind he liked. She poured a mug, took a sip, then placed it gently beside the second one she’d set out. A small piece of her wanted to write something.Thanks for last night.I’m sorry.I needed this.But none of those words felt right. None of them made sense.
Because how do you saygoodbyeto someone who never really let yousay hello?
Brandi stood at the door for a moment, fingers wrapped around the knob, heart hammering. She looked back—just once. The bed was a mess of twisted sheets and silent memories. She swallowed hard, opened the door, and walked out.
The morning air hit her like a slap—cool and unforgiving. She didn’t cry. Not yet. But something heavy tugged at her ribs with every step down the stairs.
She hadn't left to punish him. She'd left to protectherself.
Because if she’d stayed…
